Five Times Alex Called Washington 'Dad'
by esompthin
Summary: And one time he couldn't.


Alexander Hamilton had daddy issues.

For those that knew Alexander's backstory, (which admittedly, was not many, for he kept a tight-lip about such affairs) it wasn't surprising to discover that Alexander publicly rejected father figures. The last thing he wanted in his life was a man that owned his respect, just so he could rip it away. And they would. They would always leave, Alex was sure of that.

So he ignored the proud, respectable, older men of America. It didn't matter how kind they were to him, he would never allow himself to get close to them. He had survived this long in his life without a father, he didn't need to pick one up in America.

Even when he met the man who would be his father-in-law, he still kept him at an arm's length. Sure, General Schuyler was a good man. He raised three beautiful daughters, and was an excellent leader.

But when General Schuyler clapped Alex on the shoulder and said, "Be true, son.", Alex was almost forced by a deep pull in his gut to reply, "I will, sir. But, please don't call me son."

It was such a strange request. When marrying, many times your in-laws become like a second set of parents. And Alexander was fine with having Catherine Schuyler be motherly to him. But he drew the line at the General.

"I mean no disrespect, sir." Alex explained quickly, "But I have no father, and I can't allow you to fill that space."

One time, Alex actually _physically_ pushed a father-figure away, because he didn't seem to get the message. To be fair, they were in the middle of a fight, and Alex's emotions were piling up like a volcano.

"Son," General Washington said.

"Don't call me son." Alex grumbled. Too much had happened today, he had gone through far too many emotions to have the energy to deal with this as well.

"This was is hard enough without infighting!"

He didn't want to have to listen to this, he didn't want to have Washington lecture him like he was some kid. Like he was _his_ kid.

"You solve nothing! You aggravate our allies to the south!"

The way Washington's looking at him right now, like he's so disappointed in his actions. Like he's embarrassed of his actions. It's far too parental. Alex feels the walls of the tent closing in on him.

"Son."

"I'm not your son." Alex said weakly.

"Watch your tone!"

Alex shook his head, his hands clenched into tight fists. He refused to meet Washington's eye. He refused to see the angry concern there. He couldn't deal with it. Because what happens if the Unshootable American gets killed in battle? What happens after the war? What happens when Washington leaves him? Because he will leave. They always leave.

"I don't have your name." That line was too exposing, Alex, get yourself together. You're not a Washington. You'll never _be_ a Washington. Let Lafayette be George's adopted son. Let _him_ deal with the heartbreak and abandonment.

But Washington shoots him down every time he talks. He feels the panic and the self-hatred rise in him. Why did his father leave him? Why wasn't he good enough? Alex could be good enough, if given the chance. He could rise above his station, he could help end the war. He could- he could - he could -

" _Or_ you could die! And we need you alive! Your wife needs you alive! Son, _I_ need you alive!"

It was too much. Alex pushed his general with all his might, desperately trying to get away from everything he represents. "CALL ME SON ONE MORE TIME!"

Alex could barely see the heartbreak on the general's face through his tears. He swallowed around the ball in his throat and scrubbed at his eyes.

When Washington sent him home, rejected him, abandoned him, Alex wasn't surprised. He deserved it. He deserved everything but Washington's praise. So when Alex was allowed to return and work under the General again, he kept his distance. He built a stoney wall between the two of them. He refused to let this happen again. He could never be good enough to be Washington's son, so there was no point in even trying.

That being said, there were only a few instances when Alexander's guards fell. Five, to be exact. Five times in his life when Alex let that word slip; five times when he needed a dad.

* * *

The first instance was in the year 1780, when Alex received a letter that informed him that his good Laurens, his best friend, was taken as a prisoner of war. Alex's hands shook so hard he couldn't read the writing properly. His stomach fell to his feet as he realized the gravity of the situation. A prisoner of war. The prisoners haven't been released in years; John could be stuck in horrible conditions, stripped of his freedoms, for _years_. Alex couldn't let that happen. John Laurens was never meant to be behind bars. That man was supposed to lead a nation, Alexander knew it.

So Alex ran through the camp, mud splashing under his boot with each footfall. He ignored the concerned shouts and annoyed looks sent his way as he threw open the door to the confiscated loyalist house that General Washington was staying in.

He stormed up the stairs to the master bedroom, where Washington had no doubt retired for the night. Alex forgot his manners in his haste as he opened the door without so much as a knock. Thankfully for all parties involved, the General was not a very scandalous man. Alexander merely ran in on him reading a book.

Washington looked up at the sudden noise, reaching for the pistol at his side table. He relaxed when he saw it was one of his men, and not an enemy ambush. Washington set down his book as Alex panted, closing the door behind him.

"It's the middle of the night." Washington commented, "What's the meaning of this, son?"

Alex approached Washington in long strides, the letter almost crumpled in his fist as he held it out for his general to take. He stared at Washington as the older man read the letter, his brow pinched.

"Well, that's rather unfortunate." Washington said as he finished reading.

Alex blinked rapidly, "That's all you have to say?!"

Washington stood up slowly, setting down the letter as he moved, "Alexander… I know that John is a good friend of yours, but I cannot justify the ransom for one man. If they were willing to trade prisoners, then, yes, perhaps I could help. But we don't have the funds to pay for John."

"But he's one of your best aid-de-camps!" Alex said, following after Washington, getting ready to argue.

"Yes, and I value him deeply. But, Alex, he won't be shot in prison. He's relatively safe while he's there. And John is a tough man, he'll be able to put up with the redcoats fine." Washington spoke slowly as he poured himself a drink. He knew that Alex would be on his ass all night about this, the boy simply didn't see reason. "I like Laurens, I really do. But I'm afraid my hands are tied."

Alex's voice was wet as he almost yelled, "Dad, we _have_ to do something!"

Washington just barely set down his glass without breaking it. His wide eyes turned to Alexander's red face and puffy eyes. The boy didn't seem to even realize what he said. He just stared at Washington helplessly, as he awaited a response; a change of heart.

"You must really love this boy." Washington whispered, his chest warm and his throat tight.

"He's my best friend... Please, sir." Alex mumbled, looking close to tears.

Washington nodded once, "I'll… see what I can do."

Alex opened his mouth to say more, but no words could come out. Instead, he took the letter from Washington's side table and saw himself out.

Eliza described the mood that Alex went through next as ' _I hate everything in the world except John and sometimes Eliza'_. Alex detested such a claim, but couldn't argue it.

* * *

It wasn't until after the Battle of Yorktown that Alex said it again. Alex was on his horse, alongside Washington, as they watched citizens flood the streets with song and cheer. Besty Ross's flag flew in the air proudly, as people gathered under it to celebrate.

They had done it. They won the war. They have the opportunity to build the kind of nation that they'd be proud of.

Alex let out a small laugh as children ran in between the soldier's horses, squealing in excitement. He wondered if they even knew what they were celebrating. Maybe not. Maybe it didn't matter right now. Joy was infectious, and Alex was happily ill with it. Overcome with emotion, Alex felt a single tear roll down his cheek.

"Alex? Are you alright?" Washington asked, because of course he noticed that.

Alex couldn't find it in himself to care. He grinned at Washington, his eyes shining with pride. "We did it, Dad."

Washington blinked in surprise, before he smiled warmly back at Alex, "Indeed we did, son."

They watched the good people of America as they partied in the setting sun. Things were looking up for them. They had completed one part of their task, but it wasn't over yet. Now they had a country to build.

* * *

Washington had picked the most intelligent, trustworthy individuals in America to make up his cabinet. On their own, they all worked very well. But when they were in the same room, well, things didn't always work out the way Washington expected.

His two best men, Thomas Jefferson and his beloved Alexander, were physically unable to get along. Usually, it was fine. A bit upsetting, but as long as the work got done, Washington couldn't complain.

Until, that is, the fight went too far one day.

"Shut your whore mouth, Hamilton. Unless you want to end up like your mother."

Alex froze, his words dying in his mouth. His teeth grinded as he said, hushed, "E-excuse me?"

"You really don't have good breed stock, do you, Hamilton?" Thomas continued, looking down at his nails, "A bastard child of a whore and an abandoning deadbeat. What makes you think an immigrant with such a horrible background could be anything more than pathetic?"

"JEFFERSON!" Washington shouted, startling the secretary. He hardly ever intervened; since they tended to stay on topic. But he refused to allow this to happen any longer.

Alex was standing there, his eyes far away as they filled to the brim with tears. Washington reached out for the boy, but he disappeared in the blink of an eye; sprinting out of the room.

Washington slammed his hands down on the table as he stood up, "Meeting adorned. Jefferson, you stay here."

No one moved as Washington stormed out of the room.

Washington searched through the building for Alexander, his heart pounding rapidly as he opened every door in his path. Who knows where the boy could be hiding. The look on his face right before he sprinted out of the room haunted Washington when he blinked. He had to find his boy. He had to make sure Alex was okay.

Washington opened a supply closet, not really expecting to find anything there. But the soft sob that sounded when the door swung open made him pause. The president looked down, surprised to find Alex curled up on the floor, his hands over his mouth and his eyes leaking nonstop.

"Oh, Alex…" Washington sighed, sitting down next to him. After a moment, he closed the door to give them some privacy. The crack under the door was enough for them to see by.

He then pulled the boy close to him, letting Alex lean against him. Alex hesitated before allowing himself to relax against his president's chest. Then, it was like a switch being flipped. He curled completely against the older man, hiding his face in Washington's chest. He buried his face in the comforting warmth, and loudly sobbed. Washington ran a hand through Alex's hair. He always wore it down lately. His other hand rubbed soothing circled on Alex's back.

When Alex was able to breathe a bit, he looked up at Washington and hiccuped pathetically.

"... _Dad_ …"

Alexander had never seen Washington so furious before; not when Charles Lee was discovered to be a traitor; not when John shot Lee; not even when the American public refused to pay for alcohol taxation. Alex swallowed heavily, whimpering a little, as he scooted back; out of Washington's touch.

He knew this would happen; he knew Washington would get mad at him. He _knew_ he didn't deserve him. He was so stupid; so useless. Jefferson was right.

"Stay here as long as you need, son." Washington said quietly as he stood up, "I'll take care of this."

Alex was left alone in the dark closet to sob. He could feel the pressure of the world pushing down on his shoulders, making his head heavy. Washington had left him, alone, in the dark. Of course he did. They always left.

The next day, Alexander couldn't look Washington in the eye as he walked into his office. Alex kept his hands behind his back, fiercely clamped together, and his eyes on the floor before him. Shame rolled off him in waves as he awaited the inevitable.

"Mr. President." Alex said quietly. _Distance. Distance distance distance_. He mentally repeated to himself. _You can't get hurt if you don't care_. "You asked to see me."

Washington turned around from where he was looking out the window, he smoothed down the front of his outfit before saying, "I want to be very blunt here."

"Jefferson _had_ started it." Alex cut in quickly. He winced when Washington looked up in surprise.

The president chose not to comment on that, and instead said, "Son, Thomas Jefferson resigned this morning."

Alex almost swallowed his tongue. "You're- kidding."

"Maybe now we can get some work done in the meetings, yeah?" Washington said with a small smile. A rare moment of humor. Alex wasn't laughing. He stared at the president, unsure of how to react.

Thomas Jefferson made him cry, Washington claims he'll 'take care of it', and the very next day Jefferson resigns. There's no way these instances aren't related. Alex didn't know how to respond. He didn't know what to do.

A part of him wanted to get mad. Washington _isn't_ his father; he doesn't need him to fight his battles for him. He can deal with Jefferson, he's not some little kid.

But, on the other hand, Washington wasn't mad at him for letting the 'D' word slip. He had … _helped_ him. Maybe Alex actually was allowed to have a father figure in his life.

Maybe this one wouldn't leave.

"Unfortunately, it won't last long. I'm not running for president again." Washington continued, "I'd like to go home."

Alex flinched at the obvious, unspoken, _because of you_.

* * *

Alexander does not consider himself a runner. When it came to fight, flight, or freeze, Alex tended to fight. But in this moment, in the eye of the hurricane, he needed to run. He needed to escape the mess he had caused. His mistake haunted him everywhere he turned. And everyone knew about it, too. Because he told them.

He needed to pack up and go, just for a little while.

He left Eliza a note, short, but still able to express his intense emotions, and disappeared into the night. At first, he didn't know where he was going. But as he climbed onto the back of a horse, and pointed it in the right direction, he knew exactly where he had to go.

The trip took him a long time, enough time for him to wallow in self-hatred and horse shit. But when his animal friend slowed to a stop in front of an elegant mansion called Mount Vernon.

He hopped off the horse and ran up to the door without tying it to anything. If it wandered off, who cared. Alex probably deserved to be stranded in Virginia for his crimes.

He pounded on the door with all the pent-up tension that he couldn't release during his ride. He kept pounding until all the anger and fear and pain faded out of him. He kept pounding until his knuckles scraped and bleed. He kept pounding as his vision blurred. It's a big house, and he kept pounding.

When the door finally opened, Alex probably looked like a stupid child; bleeding, shivering, and sobbing for his parents. As soon as he saw Washington's face, Alex threw himself into his arms, not caring about the consequences.

"Alex?!" Washington said in surprise. Distantly, Alex could hear Martha coming towards them. "What- what are you doing here?"

Alex forced himself to pull away. He wrapped his arms around himself as he mumbled, "I-I messed up, Dad."

Martha was before him now, pulling him into the mansion, "Oh, honey, come here, let's get some tea."

"Thanks, Mom." Alex whispered, leaning into her embrace as she led him inside.

* * *

Alex sprinted down the hall, pushing doctors out of his way in his frantic rush. Someone tried to stop him, but that wasn't going to happen today. Not today, not right now. He had to get there on time. He had to, he had to, he had to. He skidded to a stop in front of a door. He pushed it open without thinking, his heart was pounding, and his mind was racing, and he just had to be there on time, dear god, please, let him be there on time.

"Alex…" Martha said from beside the bed. Alex's eyes jumped from her morose expression to the body before her. His throat ran dry as he shakily stepped forward.

"No." Alex whispered, "No, no, no, don't tell me…"

"He's gone, Alex." Martha spoke softly, evidence of tears on her face.

Alex barely heard her as he approached the bed, "No, no, no, no-"

"Alex, honey," Martha tried to reach for him, but he stumbled away. He couldn't be touched right now. If someone touches him, then this is real. And this _can't_ be real.

"No, no, Wash- George, _please_." Alex's knees gave out and he collapsed against Washington's unmoving chest. He looked so peaceful, but that didn't ease Alex's mind in the slightest. "George, please, wake up, get up, please!"

Washington's body sat cold under him.

"George, listen, I did something stupid again, you have to - you have to come back and- and- and- yell at me." Alex babbled, "I made two political parties! You didn't want that, right? Come yell at me. Please! Please, George! Yell at me! _Please!_ "

"Alexander…" Martha sighed as she took his hand in hers.

Alex's fingers dug into the fabric of Washington's shirt. His tears landed on the dead body, but Alex couldn't find it in himself to care about something like that. He was ten again, crying about something that he couldn't change, "Dad, Dad, Dad, please, Dad, come back to me, Dad, don't leave me! Don't leave me, Dad! _Please Dad, don't go!_ "

Martha pulled him into a hug, letting him sob against her. He fell apart in that hospital room; breaking into billions of microscopic pieces. It would take years to try to find all of his parts. It would take a lifetime to try and fix him again. He knew this would be the moment that destroyed him. He knew that he was over.

He continued to speak, not really knowing what words were being said. His mouth just worked on it's own accord, hoping that something it said would bring pity to God. If he talked enough, maybe Washington would return to him. Words had never failed him before.

"Please, Dad, just call me 'son' one last time…"

* * *

"I, um, I wish I could visit your grave for this…" Alex started quietly. He was standing in the halls of where he used to work. It was so early in the morning, no one but a janitor was there. The sun hadn't even risen yet. Alex's hands were in his pockets, a pistol hanging at his hip. Before him was a bust, a beautiful marble carving, of his president. Of his…

Alex cleared his throat and continued, "But, uh, I'm running out of time. A trip to Mount Vernon would be…"

Alex's fingers dug into his palms as he fought to keep his breathing level, "Where are my manners?" He laughed a little, "I should have brought flowers."

The bust didn't respond to him, but Alex could almost imagine a little twitch of his lip. If he tried hard enough, maybe Washington would come before him.

"Are- are you proud of me?" Alex asked suddenly. He let out an unsteady breath as he awaited a response. Washington said nothing. Alex continued shakily, "That's all I ever wanted. I promised to make y'all proud and… Did I do it?"

Alex kicked his foot slightly, confessing, "I wouldn't be proud of myself, if I were you. That- that was a dumb question, sorry."

"Life is … hard … without you around." Alex said after a long moment. "Mom and I miss you so much. We write every day. She says that I'm too hard on myself, but, _fuck,_ I was so _stupid_. I-I don't know why I constantly pushed you away. I-I'm so sorry. You were always too good for me. Too good for everyone. The world didn't deserve you, George."

Alex looked up into the statue's cold eyes. He had to look away, lest he start crying again.

"You caught me." Alex whispered hoarsely, "I'm stalling."

Alex's hand moved out of his pocket to brush against his pistol, "Oh? You saw that? Yeah… I've, um, got in some trouble since you've been gone. I have a meeting at dawn."

The statue stared at him.

"I know, I know. You hate dueling. But, I have to. And, besides, you know Burr: he won't shoot me." Alex tried to smile, but it fell flat. "You wouldn't shoot him, would you?"

Crickets and cicadas sung from outside.

"The sun'll be rising soon. I have to get to Weehawken." Alex took a deep breath before looking up into the statue's eyes one last time, "If I make it, take care of Pip for me. And if I don't…"

Alex broke the gaze out of fear. What happens if he doesn't make it through this battle?

"I-if I don't, then, I-I'll see you later, D- … Washington."

Alex couldn't say that word. Not anymore. He lost that right when he let Washington die without saying goodbye. Although, really, what was he expecting when he let Washington worm his way into his heart? Clearly he was right about everything from the beginning.

They always leave.

* * *

Tell me what you think!


End file.
